


Not Thinking

by lha



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e03 Life Born of Fire, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lha/pseuds/lha
Summary: Set before the last scene of S2:E3 - Life Born of Fire“What do you mean he’s not here?” Robbie asked, barely restraining his anger. “I was told last night that he’d be under observation till at leas’ tomorrow.”“And we would have liked him to be,” the doctor replied. “But Mr Hathaway was entirely within his rights to sign himself out against our recommendations and that’s what he did.”“The lad’s just been through a traumatic incident for Chris’ sake! He’s not fit to be makin’ decisions like that.”
Relationships: James Hathaway & Jean Innocent, James Hathaway & Laura Hobson & Robert Lewis, James Hathaway & Robert Lewis, Jean Innocent & Robert Lewis
Comments: 23
Kudos: 33





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Laurence Fox is an absolute twat but I refuse to relinquish ownership of James Hathaway.

“What do you mean he’s not here?” Robbie asked, barely restraining his anger. “I was told last night that he’d be under observation till at leas’ tomorrow.”

“And we would have liked him to be,” the doctor replied. “But Mr Hathaway was entirely within his rights to sign himself out against our recommendations and that’s what he did.” 

“The lad’s just been through a traumatic incident for Chris’ sake! He’s not fit to be makin’ decisions like that.”

“I’m sorry Inspector Lewis but we couldn’t force him to stay. I did make it clear that what he needed was to rest and that if he noticed any change in his breathing then he needed to come back immediately.”

“Aye and like enough he’ll do that,” Robbie said in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. “Like enough there was nothing you could have done but I don't know why he couldn’t just o’ stayed put.”

“He was…” the doctor continued after a hestient pause. “While he was behaving perfectly rationally, Sergeant Hathaway was obviously uncomfortable in this environment. It may be that he will recover better in more familiar surroundings.” 

“You might be right there,” Robbie acquiesced. “Thanks for your help, Doctor,” he added before he took his leave.

When Robbie had eventually gotten in to see Hathaway in the early hours, he hadn’t expected him to be awake. Laura, who had appeared some time while Robbie was getting checked out, had been very clear that the level of sedative James had in his system when he’d been brought in meant he’d likely sleep through till morning. He’d needed to see the lad though, so she had agreed to wait to run him home until they’d admitted James and got him settled.

When James had opened his eyes, Robbie had been so taken aback that he wasn’t even sure what it was he had said. Only that he’d been cursing himself ever since. He still wasn’t sure what it was he wanted to say but he was going to have to figure it out soon enough. Hathaway was prone to brooding at the best of times, there was no way Robbie was about to leave him to his own dubious care.


	2. Chapter 1

James hadn’t really known what he wanted or needed other than to be out of the hospital. After he’d spoken to his inspector he’d lain there staring at the ceiling overwhelmed by his own emotions, the walls closing in on him. It was good of Lewis to have come and seen him at all given everything that had happened but it was little wonder that he’d kept things reserved and formal. Everything inside him clenched when he thought about the way he’d behaved over this last week as well as all those years ago, filling him with a burning cold shame. 

When it had become clear that they wanted to keep him in for another twenty-four hours he’d known there was no way he’d be able to wait it out. They’d not been keen but he knew they couldn’t stop him and so he’d signed the forms and listened to their warnings; the cautions about the delayed effects of smoke inhalation, about the lingering effect of the sedative he’d been given, about kidney and liver function, jaundice and dizziness. He’d nodded and looked as composed as he was able, knowing that if they thought he was unstable, emotionally compromised, that they might not allow him to leave. 

He took a taxi home, but even inside his own flat he couldn’t settle. He’d showered, scrubbing with excessive quantities of shower gel to try and rid himself of the distinctive scent of smoke. While he didn’t feel like it was a successful effort, he suspected that the problem was mostly in his head. Realising that there was nothing here that was going to properly distract him, he started digging through his drawers for his too oft neglected rowing kit. 

It was by rote that he stretched and then set off down to the boat house of the club he was a member, at a gentle jog. He stretched out his legs as he got going, speeding up and finding his rhythm as the Verdi Requiem swelled in his ears. There was no one around when he got to the river, and he was glad that there wasn’t anyone there, anyone to see that he probably wasn’t in any state to be out on the water. 

Given that the clubhouse wasn’t always manned there was a key safe and once he’d liberated the keys he let himself in. He’d checked the flag status before he’d left so he knew that conditions were good and he checked himself out on the water on the buddy board before carrying a single scull and a set of cleavers out to the dock. The routine of it was a balm; nearside oar in and secured, keep your weight dockside as you secured the far-side oar, carefully balanced lower into the seat while you held the oars secure and keeping the far-side blade flat on the water to help with stability. He removed his shoes, tossing them into the space at the nose of the boat, and secured his feet. 

Sculls didn’t travel sideways well so he angled the stern of the boat out and then pushed backwards, waiting until he was far enough out to bring his dockside oar onto the water. A couple of settling strokes and he was off; pulling carefully, trying to find the motion, the pattern and rhythm that was so familiar to him. When he hit his stride, found the right biting point it was as though the repetition of the movements lulled him enough that his mind settled into a soft sort of subspace. 

The only thing that he was consciously aware of after that was the gentle stretch, ache and burn of muscles too long under used. He reached the head of the river, spinning at the appropriate point and set off downstream, pulling strongly as though he were putting in a time trial. There wasn’t much traffic on the water and he was glad of it as he saw the second set of flags and checking to make sure the lock was clear and no-one else was approaching, he carefully worked the 27ft carbon fibre shell round and set off on the harder direction back up river. 

The stretch wasn’t that long, barely three kilometres and at the height of his training he’d clocked up twenty-five or thirty several times a week, both in the eight and on his own. He’d enjoyed being part of a crew but when there was something on his mind it had always been on the water alone that he’d found peace. So, he spun the boat and rowed downstream and then spun it again and rowed back up. And then he did it again, and again. He knew on some level that he’d been at it for hours, but the music on his phone just kept ticking on and he kept rowing and not thinking. 

That was until something clipped his oar. The force knocked it from his hand and sent him rocking, and before he’d properly processed what had happened, he had capsized. Instinct took over and he was out of the fastenings at his feet, breaking the surface of the water and reaching for the hull all within moments. He clung there for a moment, coughing and spluttering, his chest heaving as he tried to gather his wits about him.

“Alright there?” Came a call from a nearby double. He raised a hand in acknowledgement before waving them on. His oars were still in the gates and there wasn’t much in the way of a slope to the bank so he made a call to try and right the shell in the water. Careful of passing craft and of cracking himself on the skull with a rigger or oar, he managed to right the boat. It took him several attempts to lever himself out of the water and back into the seat however. There wasn’t much in the way of wind but it sliced right through James’ now soaked clothes and he shivered convulsively.

Once he’d got a proper hold of the oars and he was confident of his stability he did a quick check. His phone was still secure and he kept it in a waterproof case because of this very eventuality, but the headphones were a write off and… he swore softly. The house keys he should rightly have left at the boat house were now at the bottom of the Isis. Well there was nothing for it really but to row back to the boat house and take it from there. It was a slower and thoroughly uncomfortable, trip back.

When he pulled up to the staging, James had to take several minutes to catch his breath before he could clamber onto the dock and then several more before he could think about doing anything else. His lungs were burning and his limbs trembling, making it very clear that he really wasn’t fit enough for this sort of prolonged exercise any more. Too many cigarettes and too much take away. Eventually though, he managed to get his legs under him and to lift the boat out of the water. 

He’d been tempted to abandon it all but care of the equipment had been so drilled into him at school that he knew it would just be something else to feel guilty about. Besides, with his house keys at the bottom of the river he wasn’t at all sure where it was he was going. As he hosed down the shell, he contemplated his options; his clothes had dried off some but his head was aching, his limbs heavy and all he could think about now was sleep.

When he’d finished rinsing everything off and storing it away, he locked the boat house back up and left the key in the safe. His phone had been on silent since he’d left the hospital and he had no intention of changing that but he looked at the screen to check the time. It was just after seven now, which explained how low the sun had dropped, and there were eight missed calls and a series of voicemail notifications blinking at him. He ignored them, tucking his phone away, knowing that he couldn’t bear the recriminations or the demands for explanations which he just didn’t have. 

James’ spare keys were at the station; he’d considered his desk drawer to be as safe a place as any to keep them, though he was cursing himself now for not leaving them with a neighbour. He could try the letting agent but not only would there be a fee involved it was now outside office hours and he was pretty confident there would be no-one to answer his call. 

So, he needed to get to the station, collect his keys and ideally get back out again without anyone seeing him. He hadn’t even brought his wallet with him when he’d left the house so he was without funds and while he might have, in other circumstances been tempted to call the station and ask for a favour, not today, not after…. He forcibly redirected his thoughts as he set off in the direction of HQ, focusing on nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed and I've love to hear your thoughts!  
> LHA x  
> @LHA_again


	3. Chapter 2

Jean Innocent would like to say that the dynamic duo were an oddity in how difficult they made her life, but there was no end to the various problems, crises, challenges and concerns that her extended staff gave her. There was however something _different_ , about Lewis and Hathaway though; not least of which was that she genuinely liked the pair of them, cared for them. 

The last twenty-four hours had been particularly fraught, even by their usual standards though and she had hoped that she’d get a day’s peace to try and sort out the carnage before they started causing more trouble. She’d asked Robert to keep her up to date on his sergeant’s condition, so when his name flashed up on her screen mid-afternoon she didn’t think twice.

“He’s ah… checked himself out, Ma’am.” 

“I understood Sergeant Hathaway was going to be under observation for forty-eight hours,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“That was the plan. He ah, chose to leave against their advice. He's not answering his phone so I went by his flat,” he continued, slipping into a much more report like tone. “There was no response so I came back to the station to pick up his spare keys."

“And…” she prompted, ignoring the tone of concern that no professional manner could cover.

“He’s not here,” he sighed. 

“Well we can keep an eye out for him Robbie, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d gone to ground somewhere.” It was hard to tell him not to worry too much when she had her own concerns about James Hathaway’s patent disregard for his own wellbeing.

“I’d live with that, like. As long as he’s not in a ditch somewhere.”

“Did the pair of you...?” she asked, 'actually talk' and 'sort yourselves out' fighting for the end of the sentence.

“We spoke, but the lad had only just woken up. He wasn’t... It wasn’t…”

“It wasn’t the moment to make up and tell him that you were still friends?” Jean asked, her arched brow and scepticism plain in her tone.

“No Ma’am, didn’t seem much like it at the time.”

“Well, we’ll have to rectify that whenever we track him down, won’t we?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Have you tried his local haunts, anywhere you think he might go?”

“There are a lot of pubs and a lot of churches in Oxford.”

“Do you think he’s been back to his flat at all?”

“Aye, he must have been. There’s a prescription bag on the kitchen counter.”

“Anything obvious missing? Might he have packed a case and gone away?”

“Nowt like that…” Robbie’s attention seemed to drift as though he was giving the place another visual inspection. “There’s wet towels and it looks like he was digging around in his drawers for something…” There was the sound of fabric rustling. “ ‘Attaway!”

“Robbie?” she asked.

“Attaway Hathaway! Bloody rowing…” And with that, he hung up on her.

The ‘used to row a bit’ story had done the rounds of the station but had only added to the uneasy mystique around former seminarian, just another in the vast continuing series of contradictions that was James Hathaway. But Robbie was on the case now and despite the difficulties of this last week there wasn’t anyone else she’d trust with it.

Contacting injured or ill officers was sometimes a bit of a mindfield for a senior officer. The last thing you wanted to be accused of was harassing them or pressuring them into returning before they were fit. Still, given everything, Jean thought it was possible that James might at least answer his phone to her. She tried once, and when it went to voicemail she left a message asking only moderately briskly for him to let them know that he was ok. 

It was close to eight, and Jean was contemplating finishing up, when her desk phone rang. In truth, she could have gone home an hour ago, but she knew she wouldn’t rest until they’d had some news.

“Yes,” she asked, picking up the handset.

“Evening Chief Superintendent,” the desk sergeant said. “Ma’am, I thought you’d like to know that Sergeant Hathaway’s just arrived.”

“Arrived here?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Right.”

“Like I said, I thought you’d like to know.”

“Thank you, Mark. I appreciated it.”

“He… I heard about last night and well… he doesn’t look like he should be out and about just yet.”

“Noted, Sergeant.”

She lowered the phone back into the cradle and wondered what on earth it was that brought the young man here. Jean had been confident he’d gone to ground; probably not for the best of reasons, but she’d been mostly sure he’d appear back in his flat some indiscriminate period of time in the future with his tail between his legs. What he was doing here, she didn’t know and it made her remarkably uneasy. Picking up her mobile, she considered calling Robbie but knew that he’d be full of questions that she wasn’t in a place to answer and so she text him as she headed for the door.

_Your missing sergeant has wandered into my station._

The open plan office was mostly empty but PC Julie Lockhart was hovering nearby and offered her a tight-lipped smile before backing off. Jean felt a release of tension when she spotted the familiar lanky frame, hunched over the desk and rummaging through one of the drawers.

“James?” she asked, after taking a moment to watch him. He was dressed in sports gear; trainers, lycra shorts with shorter loser ones layered over them and a long-sleeved performance top. It was a remarkable change from his usual suits and even what she’d seen of his off-duty attire.

“Ma’am,” he said quietly, straightening up and looking for all the world like a young boy caught with his hand in the biscuit box. “I’m sorry… I just… I needed to pick up my spare keys.”

“Inspector Lewis has them,” she said, watching for his reaction. “He was, we were, worried when you weren’t at the hospital when he went to see you this afternoon.”

“Oh… I… That wasn’t my intention. To worry anyone,” he said, looking away and absently lifting a hand to his mouth so that he could chew on his cuticle. Jean moved forward, realising that the young man was shivering. 

“You’re frozen.” 

“I’m fine really, I just… I’ve lost my keys and I need the spares.”

“Well I’ve let Robbie know that you’re here so I’m sure he’ll not be long in bringing them back. In the meantime, how about we look after you?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re cold, exhausted and I can hear your wheezing from here, so I’m not going to take your word for that. Come through to my office and I’ll make you a hot drink.” He didn’t offer much in the way of protest as she ushered him out of the office with a gentle hand at hovering at his back. “Julie,” she called the young PC who was hovering just far enough away to be discrete. “Could you scare up a couple of blankets and bring them up to my office?”

“Yes Ma’am,” she said, turning quickly and heading off.

They weren’t long inside her office, waiting for the kettle to boil when there was a knock at the door. 

“It’s Laura Hobson,” came the familiar tones of the pathologist. Jean crossed to the door and let her in. “A very nice young PC let me know you were here and gave me these,” she held up a pile of blankets. “Robbie called,” she added more quietly, rearranging the strap of what looked like a pretty impressive first aid kit slung over her shoulder. “He was walking the towpath on the Isis so it’ll take him a bit to get back to his car and then here and I was just around the corner.” 

“I’m glad you’re here actually, I don’t know where he’s been but…” she continued in hushed tones even though James didn’t seem particularly interested in what they were saying. Laura looked across and studied the young man with a clinical gaze.

“Would you mind?” Jean asked, gesturing with her head. “You might have more luck getting the truth out of him if he doesn’t feel like he should be putting up a front for his boss.”

“I’ll see what I can prise out of young Mr Hathaway” Laura said with a determined smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying and special thanks to everyone who has left kudos or a comment!  
> They really do mean the world,  
> LHA x


	4. Chapter 3

As Jean took her leave, Laura took a minute to take in the rather wretched looking form perched in the chair in front of his superintendent’s desk. James was hunched in on himself; cold and miserable and lost.

“What are we going to do with you, Sergeant Hathaway?” she asked, crossing the room. He’d obviously zoned out completely as her mostly rhetorical statement seemed to shock him and he leapt awkwardly to his feet.

“I…” he started, but it seemed to catch in his throat and he began to cough.

“Easy,” she said, depositing the blankets and her first aid bag on the other chair and stepping in to steady him. 

The coughing fit eased fairly quickly but she didn’t like the sound of it much. She’d taken a sneaky look at his file when she’d been waiting with Robbie and he seemed to have gotten away pretty lightly all things considered. They both had really, she thought with a shudder. Still, even if he was past the true danger period for smoke inhalation, James’ lungs had taken a beating before he’d gone off and well…. who knew what he’d been up to.

“Sorry,” he managed after a moment. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“ Well you did,” she said briskly, taking him by the elbow and steering him back into the chair. “But there’ll be time for that later.” 

The fabric beneath Laura’s hand was that sort of damp cold that got into your bones, and she rubbed his upper arm briskly to try and get some heat into him before she reached for one of the blankets and draped it around her shoulders. 

“I just had to get out of there, the hospital,” he said quietly, as Laura fished in her bag for a thermometer. “I… I didn’t think Inspector Lewis would be coming back.” He paused again. “And then when I got home, it… it was like the walls were closing in. I couldn’t breathe.” Laura was sure he meant it metaphorically but his chest was heaving even at rest. 

“I’m just going to check you over if that’s alright James?” she said sticking the thermometer in his ear when he didn’t object, even to ask where it had last been used.

“And it’s easier to breathe on the river?” she asked, putting things together. He gave her a jerky nod in return. He must have been on the water for a while she thought, checking the readout on his temp and tucking the other blanket around his knees.

“I…. it helps me think,” James offered. “Or to not think.”

“Sleep is pretty good for that too,” she suggested taking hold of his wrist and counting off his pulse.

“That was next on my list…” he said absently. “Only I capsized and misplaced my keys.”

“Well, when you weren’t at the hospital and didn’t answer your phone or your door, Robbie came to pick up your spare keys. Then when he didn’t find you there, he started checking anywhere else he could think of. He’s on his way back here now though.”

“He shouldn’t… I didn’t mean to cause so much bother.”

“I can’t say that you haven’t given all of us a bit of a fright,” Laura said honestly before adding, “Another one. And no one more than Robbie.” 

“Hmm,” came the quiet and unconvinced response.

“I might not know the details but I do know that the pair of you had a falling out…” she continued. “Robbie was distraught last night, worse until they let him in to see you.”

“Oh.” It was another of those single syllables heavy with the weight of disproportionate meaning. 

“So whatever it is that’s happened, it doesn’t mean for a second that he doesn’t still care about you. It’s perfectly possible to be infuriated by and worried about someone at the same time. You’ll work it out between you, whatever’s happened.” James shook his head at this, his eyes downcast.

“I don’t know that it’s that simple. Not this time,” he said, gnawing on the cuticle of his thumb. 

“Well I’m certain that you’re in no fit state to be the judge of that at the moment. Apart from anything else, you’ve been drugged and dragged from a burning building in the last twenty-four hours never mind your recent half drowning.”

“I lied to him and compromised the investigation, Dr Hobson. Never mind everything else…” he paused to cough into his clenched fist. “I really don’t know that there is a way back.”

“Might be you should let me decide about that.” Laura looked up to see Robbie coming into the room. “You’re a sight for sore eyes lad, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” James said, struggling to stand up.

“Less of that now,” Robbie said, crossing the room in an urgent, if awkward, gate. The strain of yesterday’s heroics ,still clearly paining him. “I made a hash of my end of things too. Don’t think we won’t be having words though,” he said, taking hold of the younger man by the upper arms. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Is he…?” Robbie asked, glancing at her.

“Exhausted, frozen and in need of a good dose of TLC before anything else,” she said pointedly. “But in one piece.”

“Message received. Let’s get you fed and rested lad, then we’ll have a proper conversation eh?”

“I appreciate… but if you just want to give me my keys.” Hathaway’s breathing was getting worse rather than better and he descended into coughs again. He was struggling to catch his breath and while Laura was pretty sure that it was at least partly anxiety related she reached for her stethoscope in any case.

“Easy lad,” Robbie said, resting a hand on James’ back and rubbing gentle circles.

“In,” she instructed, placing the diaphragm on his chest. “And out.”

“It’ll be alright James,” he murmured. “We’ll be alright.”

Laura moved round to listen at his back and Robbie caught her gaze over the younger man’s shoulder.

“Hospital?” he asked quietly. James response to this was vehement and immediate. 

“No, I think we’ll be alright,” she answered quickly. Taking his wrist and getting the gist of his pulse. “Normal breaths James, that’s it.”

“Better lad?” Robbie asked after a minute, stretching with a grimace.

“Just tired,” James responded, his eyelids drooping.

“And no wonder,” Laura said, standing back up. “Now, I know you were desperate to go home but… I have an alternate suggestion. I have two spare rooms, actual food and a pulse ox at mine.”

“You don’t need…”

“My offer is at least partially self-interest. I’m not sure I can trust either of you as far as I can throw you just now, and I’ll feel much better if I can keep my eye on you both.”

“That makes two of us,” Jean said from the doorway. “I can’t offer you the same Dr Hobson, but I don’t want either of you two darkening the doorstep of this station for at least two days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are continuing to enjoy - and thank you for continuing to read!  
> LHA x  
> @LHA_again


	5. Chapter 4

Robbie couldn’t really argue about Laura driving Hathaway back to hers while he went to collect some basics for his sergeant and himself. It didn’t mean that he had to like it though. He was glad for her, glad that she’d be there to keep a weather eye on James given the way he’d looked in Innocent’s office… 

Shaking himself he focused on the fact that at least he knew where the lad was now and that for all his carelessness with his-self he hadn’t actually ended up in a ditch somewhere. Sitting at a set of lights he rubbed his face wearily and sighed. He still really wasn’t at all sure how they were going to sort all of this out.

He’d been so bloody angry with him, so furious at James for the deception and the lies but more than anything, that he hadn’t trusted Robbie. But the anger had burnt white hot and short and quickly he’d been more concerned than anything. He’d set the uniform tail on Hathaway almost as soon as they’d parted ways for all the good that had done, and as he and Innocent had worked closer towards the identity of Zoe Kenneth he had become actively scared for James.

The smoke was pouring out of the house in Jerhico when Robbie had arrived and he hadn’t even stopped to think. He might not have hesitated even if he hadn’t been sure that James had been inside. It wasn’t until they were all in A&E that he even really noticed the protests of his back or the assorted bumps and scrapes he’d picked up. By the time Laura had arrived he was deep in self recrimination.

It had been plain as day that there was something off with James throughout the investigation and no matter what the lad had said, there was no way he should have been working it. Robbie had known that, he’d known in his bones that there was more going on and for all that he wished James had opened up, it was his responsibility to look out for his sergeant, to keep him safe. And of all the things he’d been, safe hadn’t been close.

This time, when he let himself into the young man’s flat he allowed himself to really see what it was he had skimmed over before. While Hathaway had a tendency to clutter, it was usually purposeful and strangely comforting. Now, his living room just seemed a right state with wine bottles, ashtries and discarded books and guitars all fighting for place. The chaos hadn’t made much impact elsewhere in the flat; the kitchen was bare but for the collection of empty glasses next to the sink and he’d bet a far whack that the bed hadn’t been slept in since all of this had started. 

The drawer that had been left partially open when he’d arrived earlier had been the only thing that stood out in the room as in any way disorderly. Now he pulled out the Cambridge University Boat Club hoodie that had sent him off to the river, one of the rivers, what felt like days ago. It looked soft enough and warm, so he laid it on the bed and set about packing James an overnight bag.

Having gathered James’ pyjamas, toothbrush and, after a moment’s hesitation, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, he left for his own home to repeat the process. When he arrived at Laura’s, she opened the door to his slightly tentative knock and a wave of warm air and light spilled out.

“In you come,” she instructed, turning and letting him close the door behind them. “James is dozing in front of the fire for now,” she added, her voice low. “I want to get some food into him before he has a shower but that’s next on the agenda. Did he have a prescription filled?”

“He did,” Robbie said, handing over the bag he’d found abandoned on the kitchen counter. She poked at the contents before making what he thought was a satisfied noise.

“Did they give you anything?” she asked, turning her eagle eye on him.

“I’ve got another round of that not-ibuprofen stuff.”

“Well once you’ve eaten you can take that too. Leave the bags down there and go take a seat. I’ll bring the bowls out,” she said gesturing to the cozy front room.

“Laura,” he said, catching her arm before he left. “Thanks for… well all this.”

“What are friends for,” she replied easily, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “The pair of you are so good for each other. Usually.” 

“That’s what I thought too.”

“And you were right, you both just need some space and a little time when neither of you are doing anything reckless to work it out.”

“Away with you, I’ve been thoughtless like, but hardly reckless.”

“And who was it that ran _into_ the burning building yesterday evening?” she asked, poking him in the chest. ”Go wake up James while I dish out the soup.”

The fire was burning merilly in the living room grate, and in an armchair pulled close to the hearth, James was curled up into an improbably small ball. 

“James, lad?” Robbie said, crouching down stiffly so that he was on a level with his face. “Time to wake up.”

“Ngh,” came the only response. The lad looked done in, Robbie thought but he didn’t like to think when he’d last eaten and if Laura thought it was important then…

“Come on now,” he urged him. “Just for a few minutes so we can get you outside some food.”

“Not hungry,” James mumbled, turning his head into the cocoon of blankets.

“Not an option, come on Lad,” he said rubbing his shoulder.

“Sir?” A bleary eye was peeled open to look at him.

“There he is. Laura’s got some soup for us lad.”

“Hmmm,” he still sounded unconvinced.

“If you eat up,” Laura said, coming in with a tray. “Then you can have a shower before you go to bed.”

“Sorry… I’m still all river-y,” he apologised as though he had just remembered.

“Compared to the sort of thing I regularly work amongst,” she replied frankly putting down the tray. “We won’t fall out over a little river water. Getting clean will help you feel more human though.” Robbie stood creakily and went to sit on the sofa accepting the bowl of soup he was handed in passing.

They ate quietly, Laura carrying the burden of the conversation. It was like someone had suddenly reminded Robbie that food existed after his first spoonful and he inhaled his portion in a matter of minutes. 

“There’s more on the stove,” she said with a smile, when his spoon hit the bottom of the bowl.

“Don’t mind is I do,” he said, snagging a slice of bread and butter on his way past. “James?”

“I’m alright, thanks,” he replied diligently if slowly working away at his own potion.

By the time Robbie he was coming back into the sitting room, James was unfolding himself from the chair with a grimace.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” Laura said with a frown.

“It’s been a while since I did any proper rowing,” he admitted.

“And you thought today was the day to take it back up?” Robbie asked, as the younger man cleared his throat and coughed carefully.

“I…” he floundered.

“Robbie,” Laura said warningly, but she needn’t have because he could have kicked himself.

“Well we all take silly notions sometimes,” he admitted trying to defuse the tension. “Especially when we’re upset.”

“In a lifetime of notably horrible decision making it hardly...” he tailed off. “I am sorry to have caused all this,” he gestured widely.

“Nice night in with two dashing detectives?” Laura said lightly, standing and taking James’ empty bowl and heading for the kitchen. “I’ve spent my time in worse ways.”

“I should have known lad,” Robbie said, suddenly knowing that it was time to say this. “I wish you’d felt able to tell me the truth but,” he held up his hands. “I should have seen how much this was tearing you up and sent you home days ago.”

“No Sir,” James countered. “I… You can’t… This week was only the tip of the iceberg I… I’m not the man you thought I was.”

“Are we back at Yorkies and whatnot?” he asked gently. “Cause I know it’s not black and white. I mean if it’s shoes _and_ Loaded or none of them at all… yer still our James. Still the only bagman I wan’t.”

“I was… when Will… that second time…” his face was contorted in something between anguish and distaste.

“The way I see it lad,” Robbie said, closing the distance between them again. “He came to a trainee Catholic priest, he must have known what you were going to say.”

“That doesn’t excuse my saying it.”

“No, but if he’d been looking for a friendlier ear... I know I’m not an expert like, but I’m pretty sure there are places, other branches of the church even, that would have offered a more sympathetic response. You can’t take the blame for everything that followed, James.”

“It was cruel, and I knew it was.” Quiet tears were streaming down his face now. “I just… I wanted… the feeling of belonging… I bought into it all even when, if I’d stopped to think… I knew even then...”

“Oh James lad,” Robbie said, taking him an awkward embrace. The difference twenty-four hours made, he thought idly. 

Their clash the day before felt like a lifetime ago but Robbie’s heart broke to think that the lad had been so upset and all he’d done was to berate him. “I’m sorry…” the younger man said into his shoulder. “I’m so very sorry.”

“Aye, and I am an’ all, lad,” Robbie sighed.

Underneath the fearsome intellect and behind the rapier wit, James was still the young man who had been so insecure and full of self loathing, that acceptance had been like a drug. Robbie knew well enough the sort of experiences in someone’s early life that often led down that road but it didn’t seem right to dwell if James wasn’t ready to share. Besides, they’d already had one go round with assumptions and generalisations this week.

“You can’t be taking the blame for all this lad,” he said after they’d been stood there a minute. “Not what happened to Will so many years after you spoke, not what Zoe Kenneth did to all those folk including you, and not for what went wrong between the pair of us on this investigation. It’s my job to look out for you lad, and I didn’t do that.” James made a noise of protest.

“It is,” he continued. “Not that I’d mind you makin’ that bit o’ me job a little easier in the future like.” The frame he was holding shuddered in something Robbie hopped was a chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Epilogue

As the kettle clicked off, Laura paused and listened to the sounds coming from the living room. At least the pair of them seemed to be making a better go of it the second time round she thought, opening the cupboard and setting out mugs. She couldn’t hear the details of their conversation and she didn’t need to, but the gentle murmur and even the tears were a good sign. Poking through James’ prescription boxes she pulled out a couple of things and set the pills in a ramekin on the tray. 

She’d give them five more minutes, let them have their moment undisturbed and then she’d usher them in the direction of showers and beds. Heaven knew they must be ready to sleep, even she was ready to pass out after the last twenty-four hours. Still, a good night’s sleep, a decent breakfast and Laura would send them both out into the world stronger in the broken places. 

_“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”_ \- Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, it's done. I hope you've enjoyed and I really would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> LHA x  
> @LHA_again


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